Independent Regrets
by StarFormerAdira
Summary: Their arguments were always loud, crude and annoying to any other nation that heard them. But this one, maybe even accidentally, took a rather unexpected turn. Slash, America/England.


**A/N: This is a lovely USUK role-play by me and my friend/beta GoldenJuiceBox. I'm doing the part with Alfred and Arthur and we were going to do a GerIta roleplay too, but I think we got side-tracked. It IS one of her favourite pairings, however, so she'll have some other stuff up on her page about them. Go check 'em out if you liked this, she's fantastic. :)  
****Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or the characters. I just have fun playing with them. :)  
****Okay, bad language (_mostly_ England) and sex scene. Don't like? There's a back button right up there. For all the rest of yous, enjoy!**

* * *

**Independent**** Regrets**

Arthur wasn't exactly sure how the argument had started. He supposed it didn't really matter. All that did matter was humiliating the silly little country he was currently fighting with, and that was a goal he didn't have a problem with. However, said silly little country was putting up one hell of a fight...

The meeting room was empty except for the two of them. Arthur was only a few feet away from the door, having been stopped in the middle of leaving. Alfred had been lounging in his chair, doodling on the back of his hand with a pen, but now he was standing up in defiance. They had been screaming at each other for the best part of five minutes, and the strange thing was, Arthur was pretty sure that when they had started talking, it had been a civilized, quiet conversation. Alfred had grabbed his upper arm before he stepped out of the door and pulled him back to let the others pass, and even though it had hurt a little, Arthur made himself calm down, determined that they should get through one exchange without him starting to shout. When the last country – China – had left and thoughtfully closed the door behind him, Alfred had sauntered back over to his chair and thrown himself back into it, obviously trying to piece together a sentence to start.

And then, halfway through their supposedly innocent talk, it had turned into a full-blown row, and even though he wasn't sparing any emotion at the moment, Arthur knew he would feel sorry for any nations left loitering outside.

The fact of the matter was, this argument was about anything. It was starting to get a little confusing. Anything either one could dig up from their past that had anything to do with the other, they'd turn it into a weapon. Arthur was trying very hard to just focus on the present and not dwell on the insults Alfred had managed to fling at him in the past ten minutes. They would fester in his memory for ages, despite having originated from a childish country that was only surpassing France by a tiny bit on Arthur's 'List of Nations to Ignore at the Best Possible Opportunity'.

"You may not be under my control, but the fact is, you weren't ready for freedom and you still aren't!" Arthur yelled, clenching his fists in frustration at the superior grin on the blue-eyed country's face. "You're still just a child. When are you going to get the hint and bloody well grow up?"

One thing he could say about Alfred, he seemed to have a never-ending source of comebacks.

"I'd rather have freedom than a bunch of annoying taxes," the ex-colony flung back, his words sharper than knives. "And I'm grown up! I drink coffee! Just because I'm not an old man that sits around the house all day sipping tea and knitting doesn't mean I'm not a big boy!"

Arthur suddenly had an almost irresistible urge to grab his hair and pull. "Coffee? Don't make me laugh! That sludge is nothing short of disgusting! And you're a big boy when hell freezes over, you twerp."

"Better than your herbal water!" Alfred shouted back. "How am I the twerp? I'm bigger than you!"

With a resounding plea to whatever all-powerful deities could currently hear him, Arthur asked – quite politely – for release from Alfred's whiny, hyper-active voice and his weak protests before answering bluntly, "Size is no guarantee of power. But you're right, you are the bigger. The bigger idiot!"

Alfred didn't even seem fazed by this. "Yes it is. If I sat on you, you'd be begging for me to get off. And I'm not an idiot! I just know how to have fun."

"I would never do something as lowly as beg," the Englishman scoffed. "But unfortunately, you don't know when to stop. Which proves my earlier point – you ARE a child."

Alfred widened his eyes and raised his eyebrows in the universal _duh_ expression. "You stop when you pass out."

Arthur raked his fingernails across his forehead, relishing in the distraction that the stinging pain brought. "Were you not listening to me? That's what toddlers do! You, my poor, underdeveloped brain function, act like you're barely out of baby years. I'm sorry to break it to you. That is, if your tiny mind can handle the strain!"

Alfred waved this away, as he was prone to doing. "Toddlers can't have vodka! Is that what your brothers gave you?" This idea was dismissed as well. "Probably not. You can't hold your liquor at all. And my mind isn't tiny at all...I know how to solve global warming! No-one will give me the money to fix it, though!"

"Who said anything about vodka, you weirdo? Oh, wait, that must be what you're drunk on right now. And I'll have you know that only true gentlemen drink liquor. You just don't know how to behave properly! Your big plan is to make a giant superhero and send it up into space. Forgive my sarcasm, but I fail to see how that will work apart from bankrupting everyone!"

Alfred held up one finger, completely failing to see the wave of anger that showed very prominently on Arthur's face. "If you pass out while having fun, you are either piss drunk or hit with a lamp. I thought you and your gentlemanly logic would have figured that out. And if true gentlemen drink liquor, you must be quite the lady, then, Mr. Kirkland."

And then he added, almost as if it were an afterthought: "My superhero idea is awesome. Prussia agrees."

Arthur shook his head, trying to appear pitying. "I have more logic than you'll ever have, Mr. Jones, and drunkenness is acceptable when you're as an experienced country as me – but, of course, you wouldn't know about that."

He copied Alfred's tradition, quickly adding on: "And everyone ELSE agrees with me."

Alfred started sniggering, his next few words barely discernible. "Like your bunny?"

Arthur felt something deep inside him snap, and his next sentence was loud enough for it to reverberate around the room and probably be heard by any passing nations outside. "DON'T YOU BRING FLYING MINT BUNNY INTO THIS, YOU DICK!"

"Oh, found a sensitive spot, have we?" Alfred announced, looking infuriatingly pleased with himself. "I didn't realize you were closer to the bunny than France. What about the faeries? Are they pissed too?"

"What are you implying, you perverted wanker?" Arthur snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. "That frog is the LAST person I would consider myself close to, and I'm not even going to dignify that last question with an answer, freak."

"I'm not implying anything. I'm stating the facts. You and France bicker like a married couple...you probably are one! You get rather close in meetings when you argue."

Alfred stopped and managed to fit another round of giggling in there, before rounding it off quite neatly, for him. "I'm not the freak. I don't do magic and talk to bunnies."

Arthur was determined not to let his enemy see how much the comment about France had managed to cut him. He was tired of trying to fend the sex-crazed womanizer off, and the fact that if Alfred had noticed, then everyone else had, made him realize that all his efforts had pretty much been in vain.

"Then your facts are twisted around, you idiot," he shot back. "Haven't you noticed that you ALWAYS get up in someone's face when you argue? But – that's right – you're America! You have the observational skills of a piece of lint! You stuff your face with burgers and suggest worthless ideas."

The green-eyed country's smug expression riled Alfred up and he reared up, all the insults he'd ever wanted to shout at Arthur pouring out of his mouth. "Considering your height, I have to get down. I can observe whenever I want to! You stuff your face with those rocks you call scones! Those are terrible and you know it! Trying to kill us by feeding us those? The days of gaining territory are over, dude."

"How many times have you insulted my height? You must be running out of ideas! Can't be hard, considering the size of your brain." Arthur managed to smile nastily. "You used to like those scones and you know it. I seem to remember you being all over them when you were a colony. But no! America wants his freedom and no amount of my concern will stop him! Do you have any idea how many nights I lost sleep worrying about you?"

The Englishman wasn't sure if a guilt trip was the right way to go with this, but it was out in the open and there was no stopping it, so he assumed a fierce expression and pretended like he didn't regret it just a little bit.

"As many times as you have insulted my intelligence," Alfred retorted. "Goes two ways. And I was all over them because I was hungry! It was food. Your cooking skills must've deteriorated with your age..."

Something Arthur had said made him halt and consider for a moment, which was a feat in itself. "You...lost sleep over me? Just because I had independence?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Again, my age and then my cooking. Either you are extremely focused on those three issues or you just can't think of anything new. And of course I lost sleep! I was worried sick to death! Anyone can come along and take advantage of a new nation. Do you think I wanted that to happen to you?"

"Well...I...the same thing could've happened the entire time you were gone!" Alfred stammered. "I waited every day for you but you didn't come back! Being left alone the whole time was the same as being independent – except, of course, my people weren't half as happy!"

"I knew you were safe in my house!" Arthur protested. "Nothing would come to harm you! And I...well, I knew what was happening." He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment before getting a hold of himself again and straightening up.

"Nothing could harm me?" Alfred looked incredulous. "I was a little kid! I was scared to death! Where were you when I woke up in the middle of the night crying? Or during all the storms? I lost sleep because you weren't there!"

Arthur groaned in irritation. "I had to leave! I knew you couldn't understand then, but I hoped when you were older, I could explain. You're a nation now; you know what it's like when you're suddenly called away. There's nothing more important than the safety of your people. America, I...I was always thinking about you. I wished more than ever – whenever I saw a thunderstorm, whenever I had a weird dream – that I was there with you, back at home. B-but if I had know you would grow up to be such an insensitive idiot, I wouldn't have bothered!"

Alfred didn't know how to respond to that. He had never expected Arthur to suddenly pour his heart out in the middle of one of their fights, but he couldn't ignore what his former father figure had just said. And a tiny part of him, one he had never really paid attention to, didn't want to ignore it. In fact, it wanted to revel in it.

"I...I just...you could have taken me with you! I thought you left me there because you didn't love me! But I still waited for you!"

"I know you did!" Arthur snarled back at him, almost immediately regretting the force. "I came back and you were there, weren't you? I couldn't take you with me because...well, the things I was dealing with weren't appropriate for such a young colony. Don't you see, you idiot? I was trying to protect you! A-and I still try...but you keep pushing me away. I should've stopped ages ago, but old habits die hard, I guess."

"So?" Alfred knew Arthur was beginning to let his guard down, and yet he wasn't sure whether to take advantage of that or simply bow out from the fight. "I wouldn't have understood, so it was okay! B-but I don't try to push you away...everyone else would just laugh if the hero ran back to England after everything..."

Arthur scoffed. "So now you're worried about what everyone thinks? I'll bet some people wish you ran back to me instead of parading around telling everyone you're the bloody hero. And you may be insufferable, but I – I wouldn't be opposed to having you around again."

_Oh, fantastic_, the Englishman thought sourly. Why did he have to go and blurt that out? Now Alfred would tell everyone – he'd never live it down – especially after all those years of trying not to care about whatever activities his ex-colony got up to. Trying to squash that annoying father instinct, ages after Alfred had declared independence on that fateful day.

"You – you wouldn't?"

He had expected a lot, but not that. Not that reaction. Alfred should be ridiculing him right now! Threatening to call France and tell him about silly Arthur, stupid Arthur, announcing that he didn't hate the American as much as he claimed after that carefully constructed defence he had built around his emotions.

He had to clear this up, now, quickly, before it got out of hand.

"Don't take it the wrong way, you're still an idiot..." Arthur softened momentarily, "...but you were MY idiot."

Alfred pouted, but there was no real annoyance behind the action. "'m not an idiot."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I beg to differ."

Anger flared in Alfred's expression, before settling down again. "I'm not! I was smart enough to pick you over France."

The surprise was so sudden that Arthur let his shields down completely for a second. "What do you mea - ? Oh. You – you remember that? You were so small..."

His eyes clouded with inescapable memories, and it was only then when Alfred realised just how vibrant that particular shade of green was.

"There are some decisions you just kinda remember," he muttered. "And when you and France argue, you bring it up more than you think."

Arthur was lost in thought. "I never even noticed...I would've steered clear of that subject if I'd known that you were listening! But I suppose it was a...momentous occasion in your life."

Alfred offered him a fond half-smile. "Of course I listen! You're kinda cute when you're all mad."

Arthur started, automatically starting to flush at his former enemy's words. "I – I'm not! Don't say that – I'm not cute. Cute is for describing bunnies and kittens and you when you were little, but not me!"

"Yes, you are!" Alfred teased him gently, still smiling. "And now you're blushing! See? Cute isn't just for bunnies! Cute little gentleman..."

"I'm not blushing!" Arthur told him hotly. "Don't you dare suggest such a thing! I don't BLUSH...and even if I did, it wouldn't be in response to you! I'm not supposed to react – that way. Around you, I mean."

At the sound of his half-stuttered sentence, Arthur internally cringed and swore very colourfully when he felt all the heat in his body rush to his face.

Quick as a snake, Alfred darted up to him and poked him playfully in the shoulder. That infuriating grin refused to slide off his face. "You're blushing!" he sang happily. "No need to get all flustered, it's just even more adorable! No wonder France always teases you!"

Arthur hastily took a step back, out of range of Alfred's finger. "Stop CALLING me that! It's so belittling! Like I need more of that, as you've so artfully managed to point out a thousand times. France is a jerk – all he wants to see is me humiliated. I don't want you take after him! I raised you, for God's sake!"

"Oh, fine." Alfred just managed to stop himself rolling his eyes like Arthur had done only a minute ago – that wouldn't have done anything for the other's blood pressure. "You just look so handsome when you blush!"

Arthur glanced at his shoes. "Oh, shut up. We both know you don't mean that."

Alfred shook his head, tutting. "Oh, yeah...I don't...you look adorable!"

"Stop it, America, I'm not kidding," Arthur said, glancing up at the taller nation. "I don't want to –" he stopped and corrected himself hastily "– I mean, I don't want THIS."

"You don't want...what?" Alfred stepped closer, that grin that Arthur so hated becoming even more infuriating by the element of mischief that Alfred had introduced.

"Have some respect for me, you bastard!" Arthur turned away from him, hoping that if he just ignored it, the situation might go away. "You're acting like it's the easiest thing to love and let go when it isn't because you've never had to do it!" He gritted his teeth. "I – I mean – well, I don't mean love, I just – oh, God!"

He buried his head in his hands, more to get away from Alfred's piercing stare than anything else.

"I know what it's like," the blue-eyed country said softly. "It's not easy to point a musket at the only person you actually care about. But England..." His smile grew wider. "You're blushing again."

Arthur glared at him. "Oh, well done, Sherlock! Yes, fine, I am blushing, God help me! You tell me who wouldn't in this kind of situation."

There was a moment of silence as Alfred thought. "...Sweden," he came up with finally. "But at least you admit you're being cute!"

Arthur actually stamped his foot in his annoyance, an action he would forever deny he ever demonstrated. "You know what, America, I can't take this anymore! You're being so goddamn exasperating! I don't even care what this looks like – I'm leaving! Leaving so you can get on with your hero planning in peace!"

He turned around and made for the door, every step an angry protest. He probably would've made it to the corridor, too, if Alfred hadn't practically tripped over his own feet to run at his former parent and fling his arms around him.

"No no no no no no!" the American shouted, practically ruining Arthur's eardrums. "Not again..." he trailed off with a gentle sigh as he pulled Arthur closer to his body.

Arthur was frozen in shock for a second, before he started struggling, completely rejecting the idea that it was kind of nice being so close to the personification of the USA, feeling his arms surrounding him, something he hadn't experienced before but had fantasized about it so many times.

"Get off me, you wanker!" he yelled. "Why would you care? The last time one of us went away, I was left, with nothing but memories and a newly independant country to remind me of the days we used to have." He whirled around and poked Alfred in the chest. "Why the bloody hell would you care? You are your own country – don't you dare suggest that you depend on me, because you don't. You hear me? Not anymore!"

Alfred's face had fallen during this outburst, but now he pulled himself together. "I care because now I can tell you to stay. And...and I want you to stay. You're right. I...don't know what I'm doing. I thought independence would be easy...but it's not!"

He felt the tears coming on, heard them choking up his voice, but he refused to let them fall, still maintaining the heroic bravado that had gotten him through everything up until now.

"America...?" Arthur stopped, and then continued in a very different voice. "Alfred...what do you mean? You regret it? Is that what you're saying?"

Alfred looked away, startled by the use of his human name and the raw affection in Arthur's voice. "Maybe."

The Englishman took a deep breath. "Alfred, do you regret leaving me? Or do you just regret it?"

"I regret everything!" Alfred blurted out, catching Arthur off guard, who had been expecting more excuses. "Leaving...and the insults...and the teasing, and everything!"

Arthur didn't take his eyes off Alfred's face, carefully cataloguing every emotion that flickered across – pain, love, and desperation for him to understand. He brought his hand to his mouth, and spoke through his fingers, protecting his own feelings. "I don't believe this, Amer – Alfred. You're admitting you were wrong? To me? But that's not what happens! You said it yourself, you insult me, you tease me, but you don't ever...apologize to me."

Alfred sighed, glancing down at the floor, which thankfully didn't distract him from this delicate moment. "Yes, I'm admitting I'm wrong. But...just to you...it's still not easy..."

Arthur gave him a faltering half-smile. "I can see. Alfred...you're blushing."

"Wha – am not!"

Arthur hesitated before bringing his hand up and gently touching Alfred's cheek, ignoring the rolling, heated way his stomach tensed and reacted to this single contact. "Alfred...yes, you are. You're embarrassed, aren't you?"

The American couldn't tear his eyes away from Arthur's own. They were holding him in place more firmly than gravity could ever attempt to. "Maybe...kinda..." he stammered.

"Alfred..." Arthur's voice was so soft, Alfred could barely hear it himself. "Do you miss me as much as I miss you?"

"More." The one word that the ex-colony spoke now resounded with sureness and strength, and it couldn't fail to convince anyone who heard it.

Arthur stepped closer, invading Alfred's personal space without a second thought, and didn't break his gaze as he moved. "I don't think that's possible, Alfred."

Alfred didn't even hesitate as he slid both arms around Arthur's waist, pulling him closer, feeling a wonderful tingle when Arthur reached up to steady himself by gripping the other's shoulders.

"Oh, really?" Alfred breathed, every second drawing him closer.

"Yes, really," Arthur replied, trying to sound stern, but the desperate fluttering of his heart interrupted his speech patterns and made him sound like a swooning lover instead.

Alfred was new at this. He had seen films, and he had observed other countries, but this whole situation was one he never thought he would find himself in. As a result, he was rather nervous, and if it was anyone other than Arthur, he would hide it under a show of boasting, but he knew that would just irritate the other and possibly cause him to try and stomp out again. So he copied a motion made by millions of partners throughout the world, albeit making it slightly unsure: he lunged forwards and captured Arthur's lips with his own, the kiss too hard, too forced, but the meaning underneath it perfectly clear.

It only lasted two seconds, but it was heavenly to Alfred. It was everything he'd imagined – and the fact that Arthur had kissed him back made it all the more amazing. He felt the blush in his cheeks heighten as he tightened his grip on the green-eyed nation's waist, and he almost couldn't met Arthur's stare, but when he did, it sent the most delicious shivers down his spine.

This time, Arthur initiated the contact, and Alfred simply stood there and let himself relish the attention he realised now that he'd wanted – craved – for years.

Arthur's mouth was so soft, so hot, and his tongue roved over Alfred's lips _just right_. Alfred squeezed his eyes shut and responded, clumsily at first, but soon picking up on Arthur's method and just following him. Their breath came out in frenzied gasps as they warred, each trying frantically to demonstrate their feelings for the other. Alfred's hands gently stroked Arthur's back, trying to press him closer, while Arthur responded by raising his left leg slightly, his knee rubbing against Alfred's thigh.

Somehow Alfred summoned enough sense of mind to push Arthur back, back against the edge of the table where they had stood arguing fiercely not too long ago. Arthur moaned against his lips and willingly wrapped his legs around the other's waist as Alfred placed his palms flat against the desk's surface to balance himself. As he moved forward, Arthur arched into him, and they both shuddered simultaneously as their groins pressed together.

Alfred pulled back from the kiss, not in protest, but to manoeuvre better. He gently rested his forehead on Arthur's, trying to get his breath back, and brought his hand up to run it gently through Arthur's carefully combed hair. A rare, true smile spread across the Englishman's face and Alfred copied it eagerly, staring deep into the other's eyes, his chest heaving.

He darted forwards and let his mouth cover Arthur's for an agonizingly fast second before beginning to tug on the buttons of his lover's shirt, his trembling fingers and Arthur's proximity making it difficult for him to concentrate. In retaliation, Arthur grabbed the lapels of Alfred's jacket and tugged it down his arms, causing the American to pause for a moment in his current work so Arthur could successfully throw it to the floor. It collapsed in a heap, and Alfred quickly went back to Arthur's shirt.

Quick, hasty kisses interrupted their progress as the heat and the lust became too much for them to bear, and finally, both nations were shirtless and had thrown their various garments either across the room or onto the floor, being too impatient to slow down. Arthur grabbed the back of Alfred's neck and pulled him forwards again, licking and sucking along the edge of his jaw. Alfred groaned as the pleasure assaulted his body and he reached up to awkwardly pass his hands over the other's bare torso, before dipping down and beginning to pull Arthur's belt away.

The green-eyed country kicked his boots off and gently licked the length of Alfred's ear, his touch teasing, feather-light and barely there. Alfred sucked in a breath sharply, freezing in his job, feeling the heat trickle down until it reached his lower torso.

"I-Iggy..." he breathed, his voice shaking. "Stop that..."

Arthur smirked. "Make me," he hissed in Alfred's ear, low and seductive.

For a moment Alfred had no comeback to that, despite his recently-invented motto to 'Always Be Ready' in certain situations, but then an idea occurred to him.

"Gladly," he whispered.

He sneakily gripped the top of both Arthur's trousers and boxers and, in one fluid motion, pulled them down, thoughtfully throwing them over his shoulder, not caring where they landed. Arthur, who hadn't seemed to have realised the tables had turned, used the hand that wasn't wrapped around Alfred's neck for stability to pull his lover's own pants and trousers down.

Suddenly, the American dropped to his knees between Arthur's legs, and, without any warning that Arthur could see, took his erection in his mouth.

Arthur let out a long, low groan before he tried to regain control of himself again. He clasped a hand over his mouth, mortified in case anyone had heard, and looked down at Alfred, who was grinning up at him.

"You tease," the Englishman panted, making it sound like more of an endearment than an insult.

Alfred raised his eyebrows. "Oh, you want a tease?" His tongue extended and he ran it from the base to the tip of Arthur's member, barely touching. The fluttery sensations in Arthur's stomach grew in multitude and he began to whimper at the touch as Alfred continued. The sounds coming from Arthur's throat made Alfred more aroused – if that was even possible – and he was holding himself back from just throwing Arthur backwards onto the table and taking him then and there.

At the sounds Arthur was emitting, Alfred felt the irresistible urge to smile in pride that he was causing them. His lover noticed the expression and reached forwards, combing tense fingers through Alfred's mess of hair. The American jerked as he felt Arthur's fingernails graze his scalp, and a sting of heat flared up, making him cry out around Arthur's member.

Arthur had clearly had enough. The primal hunger and ferocity in his eyes was enough to give anyone second thoughts about refusing him, and when he pulled on Alfred's hair, the other didn't hesitate to climb back up as Arthur lay back on the table. He straddled those slim, perfectly formed hips and darted forwards for one more kiss, more to build his confidence than anything. The thought made him want to laugh. Alfred F. Jones, the personification of the awesome country America, everyone's undoubted hero, was nervous. And Arthur was just looking up at him with that husky expression like he did this every day.

Alfred cringed internally. Not a good idea right now.

"Come on," Arthur murmured, his lips brushing against Alfred's as he talked. "Come on and fuck me already."

This superiority that the Englishman had somehow acquired during sex was more stimulating than anything else he could've said, and Alfred was determined to match it.

He pretended to think. "Hmm...I don't know..." he muttered. "Okay." He raised himself up and pressed into Arthur in one smooth push.

It was amazing. The feeling of Arthur, tight and hot around him, almost drove Alfred off the brink. He threw back his head as the wave of heated delight rolled through him, and followed Arthur's startled gasp with one of his own. Giving his lover a few moments to adjust to the intrusion, Alfred was planning to wait until Arthur gave him some sort of sign that he could continue, but the expression of ecstasy on the Englishman's face was too much. He began to thrust, in and out, as Arthur's hands grasped weakly at his shoulders and his body rocked with each wonderful push.

"Alfred..." The thin, wavering tone made Alfred look up in concern, but Arthur just looked back at him, his eyes hazy and clouded with lust. "...don't stop..."

Alfred obeyed blindly, aware that the only thing that he didn't want to do right now was stop, because otherwise there would be disastrous consequences, something to do with the universe imploding, and that wouldn't be good for anyone. He could just imagine Russia catching up with him in Heaven and beating him up with that pipe.

Arthur's fingers gripping a lock of his hair brought him back to the present, and he groaned as the pain clashed with the pleasure, faltering for a moment in his pace. Arthur dragged his head down until their lips met again, the kiss punctuated by gasps for air and tongues twining.

Alfred felt release sneaking up on him, and he grabbed Arthur's wrist desperately, trying to convey it without breaking contact. Arthur tore away, his head falling backwards onto the table, panting for air, but he wasn't done yet.

"Alfred..." he began weakly, each word pierced by one of Alfred's thrusts. "Alfred, I love you."

The American almost stopped in his tracks. What a bombshell to drop on him now. But he had to admit – he kind of liked it. And he felt a rush of warmth that was pure, unfiltered love for the man before him.

He began to pump harder, forcing his way deeper into Arthur, pressing against the other's prostrate with each move. Arthur's gasps soon became full-blown moans, growing louder as the pleasure spiked.

"Arthur," Alfred choked out, his fists clenching. "Oh, God, Arthur, I love you, too."

With those words, he pressed in as hard as he could, and Arthur screamed out as his release came crashing down on him. At the sight of his face, open and blissful, his mouth open and yet his hand trying to cover it, Alfred let go, feeling Arthur clench around his erection and jerking forwards one more time before shouting out, sweating running down his body.

Arthur still had enough sense of mind to roll to the side as Alfred pulled out, letting the American fall to the table without any obstructions. Instead of trying to recover, however, Alfred pulled Arthur closer to him, holding him in a hot embrace. Arthur hesitated for a moment, but then relaxed, burying his face in Alfred's shoulder and trying to get his breath back.

"Iggy..." Alfred breathed, nuzzling his lover's head. "That was amazing."

"Yes," Arthur agreed breathlessly, his hand repeatedly stroking Alfred's side. "Yes, it was."

Alfred raised himself up on his elbows, leaning over Arthur, and stared deep into his eyes, one hand caressing the smooth cheek. "Arthur, I love you. I really do. I wasn't sure before, but now I am."

His voice was different, Arthur noted. It had lost the undercurrent of humour and contained laughter. Alfred was completely serious now, which apparently he could be when he really felt the situation called for it. Arthur reached up and absent-mindedly straightened his lover's glasses as he talked.

"I know," he murmured. "I love you. I was a fool before. I was so blind, because I've loved you since I saw you standing in the rain on that fateful day. You were so proud, and strong, and I fell for your right there."

Alfred smiled fondly down at him. "That...was probably one of the best moments of my life. But I kinda ruined it when I wanted independence...but screw the past now."

Arthur pulled him closer in preparation for another kiss. "Yes...screw anything but us. Let's live in the present."

He caught sight of the clock on the wall over Alfred's shoulder, and sighed. "And the present is: we have a meeting at Germany's house in a few minutes."

Alfred smirked. "Shit...I'm not even wearing pants..."

THE END

* * *

**I just want to point out that not EVERY English person makes bad scones. I'm pretty sure mine didn't move when they came out of the oven. :D**

**Reviews are VERY appreciated. I even have a new batch of cookies to give out! (not scones. Promise)**

**GoldenJuiceBox: I'm invading! I do play quite a good America if I do say so myself…but also, you are to favorite~~~ Please? Hetalia skinny dipping to those who do~!**

**x**


End file.
